Page 45 of Love Among Vines

“Well,” she said, “I, for one, have no problem separating sex from feelings.”

Blood rushed south. How illegal was sex on the side of the road?

“Same. So there’s really no reason why this can’t be more of a friends-with-benefits situation.”

“Exactly,” she said. “So on the outside, we’re in love. And on the inside we’re?—”

“Enjoying each other’s company.”

“Then it’s decided,” she said. “Criteria number three—friends with benefits. We should probably make a subsection for dealing with PDA. What’s your comfort level like?”

“I think we’ll need some at least to sell the story. But what do you think?”

She nodded, and there was a glint in her eye. “I’m not opposed to a little public declaration. A hand on the small of my back, a quick kiss when the mood strikes. Holding hands in front of the neighborhood busybodies.”

“As long as we’re not being chased by anything.”

She stared at him. “Is that likely to happen?”

“You should see the groundhogs we get in the vineyard.”

She made a note in her phone. “Oh, what will you tell your family after the event? When I’m gone?”

He hesitated. “The truth. That you’re an incredibly talented artist who needed to go back to New York to chase your dreams.”

“If it helps, I could stage a very public breakup.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary. I’ll just put in a couple weeks of dramatic moping. It’ll get the point across.”

“Fair enough. Well, while we’re talking about sex, let’s make it as un-sexy as possible so I don’t spend the next three-and-a-half hours thinking about jumping on you and committing a traffic crime.”

His lips pressed together. “Go on.”

“First, I have an IUD, but condoms are a must. It’s nonnegotiable. I don’t need to accidentally bring a child—no matter how perfect their genetic makeup and bone structure would be—into this world when I can barely afford my rent.”

“Got it. I’ll pick up a box when we do our snack run.”

“Second,” she said, “there will be foreplay. I spent too many years of my life faking orgasms with a warm-blooded jackhammer. I will coach you until you get it right. And don’t worry,” she added with a hand on his thigh. “I’m a very enthusiastic giver as well as a receiver.”

The leather creaked beneath his palms on the steering wheel, and his pants stretched a bit tighter than they had moments before. “I thought we were supposed to be making this un-sexy.”

“Right. Sorry.” She withdrew her hand.

“So,” she said after a moment passed. “What are your expectations of me? How can I best wow your parents? I’ll need to do some research, I’m sure.”

“For starters, I would appreciate it if you could name drop Rhodes Vineyard when you describe the circumstances of your remarkable comeback in your next big interview.”

“Obviously,” she said. “What else?”

“Reconsider the paint and sip night. You could also help with some things for the party. I’ll pay you as an independent contractor—I can’t afford to pay you what you’re worth, though.”

“Something’s better than nothing. We’ll talk about it.” Her expression was cloudy in the reflection of the window.

“Also, I always want you to be yourself,” he began. “But historically speaking, my parents will ask for your top three favorite musical scores and Hollywood actors.”

“Got it. I’ll look into it. I think we’ve made great progress today. Any other boundaries I should note?”

“Open communication and truth always.”

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